The One I Need
by KathAdrian
Summary: AU HOGWARTS. Hotson & Mystrade. John and Sherlock have been friends since their first day in school, but when John begins to feel that friendship isn't enough things get complicated. Set during their sixth year. And now a prequel: Stay where I can see you
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone :) I'm back with a story I wrote a few weeks ago :)**

**Basically Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Lestrade at Hogwarts ( at the same time as the Golden Trio ). Hotson & Mystrade, don't expect a plot, pure fluff.**

**I feel that Sherlock could belong in Slytherin or Ravenclaw and John and Greg could belong in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, but I had to make a choice :)**

**Enjoy ;)**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.<strong>

**A/N: I'm not english speaking, but I hope this won't prevent you from enjoying the story.**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

John followed his parents in the station, almost running to escape the pouring rain. He sure was going to miss London and its delightful weather, alas, he feared the climate wouldn't be much nicer in Scotland. According to Harry's tales, it was even worse up there. However, not even the fear of having his limbs ripped off by a troll could have made him want to stay home. Watching his sister board the Hogwarts Express a year ago had been tough, to say the least. Not that he had missed her, at all – all right, maybe just a bit – but today he knew he would get to go with her, and this fact alone was enough to make him feel a little light-headed.

"John, hurry up!" He heard Harry yell through the crowd.

He rolled his eyes and followed her as fast as he could, ignoring his parents' instructions not to wander off. He caught a glimpse of her as she ran through King Cross' wall to get to Platform 9 ¾. He let out a long, deep breath and risked a glance at his parents. He saw their trusting smiles, their quiet support and gripped his luggage a bit tighter. Then, he ran.

The sight that awaited him on the other side was enough to take his breath away. If only just a little. There were parents yelling, children crying and students all over the platform. Most – including him – had chosen to dress in their muggle clothes but he could spot a few of them already in their uniform. Owls were flying everywhere while their owners ran after them, trying to get them back into their cages, and John was almost sure he saw a toad skipping about.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" His father whispered in his ear, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah." Was the only thing he could think of as an answer. He wasn't even sure words were enough to describe the mess the station was in. But what a wonderful mess it was.

He took a look around, trying to memorize every detail of the scenery. A mum was handing out sweets to her kids; another was stuffing clothes into her son's luggage. Older kids had come on their own but most parents were present, no matter how old their child was.

A whistle announced the oncoming departure and John gave his parents a last kiss before they ushered him onto the train. He waved them goodbye and moved into the corridor, preferring to avoid the awkward moment where he would just stand there waiting for the train to actually begin moving.

But as soon as he felt the machine start, he rushed into the nearest compartment without even looking up. He got to the window and caught a last glimpse of his parents still on the platform. Choosing to ignore the pang of pain he felt at the idea of being on his own, he turned his back to the window and finally noticed he wasn't alone in the compartment.

A young boy was seated on his right, almost frowning at him. John swallowed hard, realizing it wasn't a polite thing to do to burst into someone's compartment without even asking (and ignoring him all the while into the bargain). He nervously ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat, willing his voice to sound a bit more assured than he actually felt.

"Er. Do you mind if I sit with you?"

The young boy simply stared at him for a few moments and John felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze. He had piercing gray eyes and his features didn't show any sign of sympathy. Just as he was about to run for the door, the boy shrugged.

"I guess it's all right."

His voice was surprisingly low and controlled. John took a seat and risked a glance at his compartment neighbor. He had dark curly hair that contrasted with his pale skin. He was already dressed in his school uniform and John noticed that he hadn't been sorted yet. He breathed a little easier knowing he was also a first year.

John grabbed his suitcase and took out his own uniform a little hesitantly. Was he supposed to put it on now? He looked at the other boy hoping for an answer but he was already absorbed by the book on his lap. John let out a sigh and looked out the window. What if he wasn't any good at magic? What if the school had made a mistake sending him his letter?

He felt like a fraud. He wasn't anything special, he hadn't shown any special skill for magic and yet his parents seemed to have high hopes for him. He simply wished they didn't. It would be a lot easier on him. Merlin. What if – God forbid – he was sorted into the wrong house?

"Your parents won't care." The voice suddenly pulled him from his thoughts. He blinked furiously for a few seconds before registering where the sound had come from.

"What?"

The young boy let out a deep sigh as if explaining himself took him more willpower than he possessed. "Your parents. They won't mind the house you get sorted into."

"Wh- How would you… What?" John stammered.

"On the platform I saw them wave at you. Your mother, obviously a muggle, was wearing a gold-and-crimson scarf. Probably because your older brother or sister was sorted into Gryffindor. Your father was a Gryffindor himself, I suppose, judging by his proud smile and posture."

John stared at him, gobsmacked, but the young kid wasn't done yet.

"And there is the annoying fact that you've been sighing since the train started, tightening and relaxing your grip on your school uniform." He raised an eyebrow and John stopped immediately.

"I could tell your parents were proud of having another wizard in the family, and neither of them seemed like the demanding sort. So I would suggest you stop torturing yourself in vain. Besides, you're distracting me from my reading."

John stared at him for at least ten seconds before realizing he was gaping. He shook his head before throwing his uniform out of reach. "How did you know?"

"I didn't know anything. I merely observed."

"That's… Well, that's amazing." John finally answered in a smile.

The young boy's eyebrows shot up and John frowned at him. Had he said something wrong? The kid grabbed his book again but John could tell he wasn't reading a word. You could almost see his brain work behind his eyes, and apparently there was something he couldn't understand. After a few minutes of silence, he snapped his book shut, frustrated. He cleared his throat and looked a bit sheepish as he asked:

"Do you really think so?"

It was John's time to look surprised. "Of course! It's brilliant! Is it so surprising that I could be impressed?"

The young boy sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, looking away. "No. It's just not what people normally say."

"And what do people normally say?"

"Piss off."

John let out a laugh and saw the other boy relax a bit. Apparently he wasn't used to this kind of response, and in a way, John found that idea really sad. He reached out his hand and gave the boy a soft smile.

"I'm John Watson."

The boy seemed to hesitate for a second before shaking his hand, but when he finally did, his whole body seemed more relaxed than before. "Holmes. Sherlock Holmes."

John sat back. "Sister, by the way." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "She's a year older than me, and she is a Gryffindor."

Sherlock nodded but remained silent. However, John didn't really mind, he could tell the young boy wasn't used to talking and even less to having people talk to him. It was fine really. That didn't mean he was going to give up though.

"So, do you know anyone at Hogwarts? An older sister? Or a brother maybe?"

Sherlock focused his gaze on John, apparently deep in thought. When he finally answered his voice was a bit sharper than it had been before. "No."

Before John could think of anything else to ask, the compartment's door burst open, revealing an older boy in his Slytherin uniform. His features seemed to suggest he wasn't much older than they were but his eyes literally screamed 'maturity'.

"Really, Sherlock. There's no need to deny my existence. After all, we'll be living under the same roof for the rest of the year."

"Have you been spying on me?" Sherlock hissed through gritted teeth. "Again?"

The older boy tilted his head and sent him a playful smile before turning towards John, extending a steady hand. "Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock's brother. Nice to meet you."

John gaped at him for a moment before shaking his hand. "John Watson. Nice to meet you too."

Apparently very pleased with himself, Mycroft slid the door open before turning towards his brother. "Try not to traumatize poor little John too much." Sherlock simply glared at him before kicking the door shut.

He sat back and crossed arms and legs. "So, that was my brother."

"Yes." John cleared his throat, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. "He seems… nice, I guess."

"Mycroft is many things. Nice isn't one of them."

"I was going to say 'weird' but didn't want to sound rude."

Sherlock chuckled softly and relaxed a bit. John smiled back, he felt warm knowing he could make the young boy laugh. Apparently this was a rare occurrence.

"So you already know which House I'm hoping for. Do you think you'll be in Slytherin too?"

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a moment. "We'll see."

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><p>John and Sherlock were climbing the stairs to the Great Hall, when an old woman stopped them. John was trying to listen but he felt way too nervous to hear a single word.<p>

"There's no need to panic." Sherlock whispered at his side.

John turned to him and arched an eyebrow. "Easier said than done."

Sherlock shrugged before taking John's hand in his own, stopping him from clenching and unclenching it. John looked up at him with a questioning look but Sherlock had already let go and appeared to be focused on Professor McGonagall's speech. Clearly this boy had absolutely no notion of personal space or privacy. But then again, John didn't really mind. Somehow he felt a bit safer knowing that Sherlock was by his side.

The Deputy Head then lead them to the Great Hall and John could hear a little girl ramble on about a magic ceiling a few feet away.

"Muggle-born." Sherlock softly murmured. John raised an eyebrow and the other boy knew it meant he had to explain himself. "Her uniform doesn't have a single wrinkle on it. Her posture is a little too stiff to be natural and she's been shoving her book-learned knowledge down everybody's throat."

Impressed as he was, John didn't smile this time. He nervously gripped his shirt and turned towards Sherlock. "And does it matter? Being muggle-born?"

Sherlock looked at him for a few seconds, his cold gray eyes boring into John's. Then he looked away and put his hands inside his trousers' pockets. "No. It doesn't."

John let out a sigh, relieved, as Professor McGonagall began calling students for the Sorting. He absent-mindedly noticed that the muggle-born girl was sorted in Gryffindor. Then came Sherlock's turn. His steps were calm and graceful and John was impressed he could stay in perfect control of himself, knowing the whole school was staring at him. And the Headmaster's blue playful eyes weren't helping either.

Sherlock climbed on the stool and John half expected it to yell 'Slytherin' without a second thought. But it remained silent for a few seconds. Sherlock's eyes were tightly shut and he was apparently deep in thought. Then John remembered what Sherlock had told him on the train: the Sorting Hat took your opinion into account. Maybe the Hat wasn't sure and Sherlock had to persuade it to send him to Slytherin. John was under the impression that the boy's family had decided on his House a long time ago.

"Ravenclaw!" The Hat finally yelled.

John simply stared at Sherlock's satisfied smirk as he went to sit at his table. He risked a glance at Mycroft and noticed his half-amused-half-reproachful expression. He supposed Sherlock was smart enough for Ravenclaw, but he hadn't been expecting this. Then again, he didn't think he could ever predict Sherlock's actions.

A Gregory Lestrade got sorted into Hufflepuff and then a few more students were called up.

Most of the students had already been sorted now. Only three of them were left. John, a red-head who looked ready to pass out and a boy who glared at everything that moved.

"John Watson." Professor McGonagall announced.

John readied himself and walked up to the stool, willing his legs not to shake. He sat down and readjusted the Hat when it fell in front of his eyes. He could see every gaze in the room on him but he tried to ignore them. He searched for Sherlock at the Ravenclaw table and found him staring at him, looking curious.

_Ah, let's see. You're brave, and loyal too. Hufflepuff would be a good choice for you, but you don't seem to be the kind to abide by the rules… _John could almost hear the Hat chuckle inside his head. _No… I think you would do well in…_

"Gryffindor!"

John let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and let Professor McGonagall take the Hat back. He rose up and walked towards the Gryffindor table, smiling as his new Housemates cheered. At the Ravenclaw table, Sherlock shook his head and smiled, but John didn't turn in time to see it.

The end of the meal was approaching and John was ready to leave now. He was full and exhausted, but most of all, he was intrigued. Dumbledore rose from his seat and gave them a new set of instructions. As soon as he was done, John jumped up and looked for Sherlock. He spotted him near the doors and practically ran in his directions.

"Sherlock!"

The young boy turned on his heels to face him, his eyebrows raised in question.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you? You asked the Sorting Hat not to be placed in Slytherin."

Sherlock smirked. "Well observed." John smiled proudly, though he didn't exactly know why. "Would it have made a difference though? If I had been sorted into Slytherin?"

John didn't even need to think about it. He slowly shook his head. "No."

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><p><strong>I'll post two chapters a day, and there are 7 in total, so this will be fully uploaded in 3 days ;)<strong>

**Please review, I live on those.**


	2. Chapter 2

**5 years later**

John could feel his heart thump with excitement in his chest. He took a glance down the corridor, wondering why in hell he had even agreed to this. Snape could come around any minute and he had absolutely no reason to justify his presence. He slowly opened the door to the Potions Master's private store room and whispered hastily:

"Hurry Sherlock!"

He heard his friend groan in response and let out a deep sigh. Of course Sherlock would find a way to drag him into trouble only after a few weeks back at Hogwarts. John would never admit he secretly enjoyed it, the thrill of danger, knowing they were doing something illegal and that they could get caught any second.

Sherlock finally got out and closed the door, a wide grin plastered over his face. John couldn't help but grin back when he noticed the phial in Sherlock's hand. He grabbed his wrist and began running as fast as he could without making too much noise. He only allowed himself to slow back when they were two floors up, in the Ravenclaw common room.

Nobody noticed his presence. They had gotten used to him over the years. He finally released his friend's wrist and settled into a nearby chair. Sherlock comfortably sat on the arm-rest, chuckling softly.

"Aren't you worried Snape might figure it out?"

"He won't. He is too proud of his own theory."

"Which is?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Potter did it."

John shook his head but couldn't help a slight laugh from escaping his lips. "Then let's hope for you that Hermione never finds out either."

"I would never hear the end of it."

John had never questioned Sherlock's friendship with Hermione Granger. After all, Hermione was a lovely girl. He just didn't understand how Sherlock could have made a friend – other than himself, obviously – then again, they were both unbearably clever.

"What do you even need this for?"

"An experiment." Sherlock shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course." John answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'd better go, it's near curfew and you wouldn't want me to get into trouble, would you?"

Sherlock's smirk only grew wider. "Lunch time, as usual?"

John nodded and gave him a small smile. "Sure. Good night, Sherlock."

"Good night, John."

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><p>John sat at the Gryffindor Table the next morning and absent-mindedly grabbed a toast. He was in the process of swallowing it when Sherlock collapsed on the bench next to him, nearly causing him to choke. He coughed a few times and noticed Sherlock's puzzled expression.<p>

"What is it?"

Sherlock put his elbows on the table, joining his hands under his chin in his _thinking position_. "The Headmaster sent me an owl this morning. Apparently he wants to see me around noon."

John's eyebrows shot up and panic quickly sank in. "Do you think he knows?"

"No, no." Sherlock shooed the thought away with his hand. "And even if he did, he has no way of proving it."

"How could you possibly know that?" The Ravenclaw sent John his trade-mark don't-be-so-stupid look and frowned. "There is something odd about this letter, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Well, you're gonna have to go and see him to understand then."

"Apparently. But this means I'll be late."

John hadn't even thought about that, but apparently that was the whole reason Sherlock had told him about the letter. He smiled softly, admitting that Sherlock could be quite considerate from time to time. It wasn't often, but when he was it always made him feel a little warm inside.

"It doesn't matter; I'll come and wait for you outside his office."

"There's no need. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes. I'll simply join you in the park when I'm done."

John nodded his head in agreement and Sherlock returned to his own table. The Gryffindor tried to go back to his breakfast but he could feel Hermione staring at him on the opposite side of the table. He raised his eyes to meet hers and gave her a small smile.

"You two really are quite inseparable, aren't you?" John could almost hear the glee in her voice.

"We're just as close to each other as you are to Harry and Ron." He shrugged.

For a moment, Hermione's gaze seemed to wander on someone near the teacher's table, but it was focused on him so soon again that John decided he had imagined the whole thing.

"Yeah, I suppose." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes but John decided not to comment on it.

"So are you looking forward to Quidditch practice tonight?"

John's smile grew wider. "Yeah, but I haven't had time to practice over the summer, so I'll be a bit rusty. Hopefully, Harry won't mind too much."

"I'll make sure he doesn't give you detention." John chuckled a bit at that. Harry certainly could get intense about Quidditch, though to be fair, it was his role as the team captain. "Will Sherlock come to watch you play?"

"I don't think so. I haven't even told him that practice was tonight."

Hermione seemed to restrain herself from rolling her eyes, but John couldn't understand why. She didn't give him any time to ponder over this as she rose from the table. "Well, I'll see you tonight then, the boys made me promise I would come."

John chuckled a bit. "See you."

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><p>At lunch time, John nearly ran out of his classroom and headed for the castle doors. It was a bit chilly outside but not uncomfortably so. He walked his way towards their usual bench, planning on waiting for Sherlock to eat. It was a bit of a tradition now.<p>

He couldn't remember how or when it had begun, but they always met up in the park at lunch time. Sometimes Sherlock ate. Usually when John had the patience to force food down his throat. But most of the time he just sat there reading a book, sometimes he took John's feet on his lap, sometimes it was the other way around.

They never asked for the other's permission. They didn't have to.

However, John knew today was going to be unusual as soon as he saw someone seated on their bench. Someone he could recognize from five miles away: Mycroft. John didn't dislike him as much as his brother did but he always felt a bit wary in his presence. Both Holmes brothers could read him like an open book, but for some reason, he only minded when Mycroft did.

"Hello John." Mycroft said in his business-like tone.

John shook his head and sat next to him, knowing it was no use trying to escape. "What are you doing here Mycroft?"

"Don't worry; I will be gone by the time Sherlock finally gets here."

John let out a sigh. "So _you_ wrote the letter. What for?"

"I needed an opportunity to talk to you. In private. Apparently, this was the only way to keep Sherlock away for more than a few seconds."

Mycroft was grinning like a cat and John decided to ignore what the elder Holmes was implying. It wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last. "Fine. What do you need to talk to me about?"

Mycroft crossed his legs and fixed his gaze on John's face, pinning him in place. "As you well know, this is my last year at Hogwarts."

John could have sworn he saw something akin to sadness in the Slytherin's eyes, but he quickly pushed the confusing thought away. "I know how close you are to my brother…"

"Stop right there." John interrupted him, putting his hand in the air. "If this is another attempt at convincing me to spy on Sherlock for you…"

"No. Nothing of the sort." Mycroft grinned. "Well, not exactly."

John frowned but the Slytherin didn't seem to notice. More probably, he didn't care. "I've always done my best to protect him, John, whether he appreciates it or not."

The Gryffindor thought that, considering the means Mycroft had used over the years, it was no mystery Sherlock wasn't pleased with his brother surveillance. However, he didn't speak and let Mycroft carry on.

"I want to make sure you will take care of him, even when I'm gone."

John's eyes shot open at that last sentence. He didn't know if he felt angrier that Mycroft seemed to think he could bully him into doing something for him or that he felt he needed it at all.

John opened his mouth to answer but Mycroft raised his hand, silencing him. "Let me make myself clear. I know you care for my brother, perhaps more than anyone in this castle." Mycroft swallowed hard and John felt his own throat tighten painfully.

"You've been a good friend to him all these years, and for that, I want to thank you."

John gaped at Mycroft, utterly flabbergasted. He had never expected Sherlock's brother to thank anyone… for anything, but mostly, he was shocked Mycroft even felt the need to thank him at all.

"I don't need you to thank me for being Sherlock's friend…" He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm not doing this because I pity him, or because I feel he needs to be protected. As you said, I… well I care for him. He's my best friend."

Mycroft rose in one swift motion and smiled down at John. "This is exactly what I'd hoped you would say." The Gryffindor blinked before he felt his hands clench into fists. "I'm sorry, John. I needed to be sure."

John ran a hand through his hair, not quite believing how far Mycroft could go to protect his little brother. In one way, it was sweet. Oddly enough though, John found it equally infuriating. Mycroft looked up at the castle gates and his face turned serious again. When his eyes found John's again, the Gryffindor felt he couldn't move one inch.

"There is only one thing I will ask of you, John." He took a step closer, making sure he was towering over John. "Whatever my brother might say, he has feelings, just like anyone. Don't. Toy. With. Them."

When Mycroft finally walked away, John felt he had just witnessed the most intense hurt-my-brother-and-I'll-kill-you speech of his life. Protective wasn't even enough to describe how Mycroft felt about his brother, and as much as John hated being threatened, he couldn't blame the Slytherin.

"What did Mycroft want?" Sherlock's voice made John jump. Placing a hand over his heart, he took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

Sherlock sat next to him, his eyebrow raised. John knew he couldn't escape his friend's questions. "How do you know it was Mycroft?"

But he could try. The Ravenclaw shook his head and John could almost read the word 'please' in his eyes. "Nothing in particular."

Sherlock sighed and lay down on the bench, letting his head fall down in John's lap, looking away. "It's no use trying to lie to me, John. I will find out if I want to."

The Gryffindor could almost see the pout on his friend's face. He ran his hand through the black curls before he could even realize what he was doing. He willed his body not to tense as realization dawned, but he knew Sherlock had felt it.

"You'll soon need to cut your hair, you know." He added a bit awkwardly.

Sherlock groaned and John's lips twisted into a smile. "I wish you wouldn't try to hide things from me."

John sighed. "If I told you that what Mycroft told me was between him and me, would you let it go?"

"No."

The Gryffindor let out a long chuckle and, even if he knew Sherlock would never admit it, he felt his friend smile in his lap.

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><p>John would never admit it, but as he rose on his broomstick that night, his mind was miles away from the Quidditch pitch. His brain seemed to play Mycroft's speech on a loop, and he couldn't stop over thinking the last words the Slytherin had said to him.<p>

_Whatever my brother might say, he has feelings, just like anyone. Don't. Toy. With. Them._

John swallowed the lump in his throat. To be honest, he felt a bit sick. His world seemed off-balance and he knew it had nothing to do with the way he was flying. What had Mycroft meant? Surely when he said 'feelings' he didn't mean… Well he only meant that Sherlock valued him as his friend.

Nothing more.

He tightened his grip on his bat and flew around the pitch, willing his mind to focus on today's practice. He hit a bludger as if it had personally offended him and nearly managed to knock Ginny off her broom. Harry gave him the thumbs-up and John felt instantly better, hearing cheering erupt from the small crowd.

He noticed a girl in his year sitting alone, a red-and-gold scarf tied around her neck. Sarah, her name was. Sarah Carson. She was applauding slowly, her eyes never leaving his, a big smile plastered all over her face. He smiled back, a warm feeling in his guts.

Harry called them back on the ground for a little mid-practice speech and John landed reluctantly. As their captain began explaining his next strategy, something else caught John's eyes in the background. Someone else, to be precise.

Sherlock was seated on the stands with Hermione. How he had found out about today's practice, John didn't know, and frankly, didn't care. The only thing his mind seemed able to process was how close they were to each other. They were chatting animatedly in a conspiratorial manner and- What was Hermione's hand doing on Sherlock's thigh?

"John! Are you listening?"

Harry's outburst pulled John out of his thoughts and seemed to draw the attention of the students he had been spying on. The Gryffindor clenched his jaw, willing his body to remain calm. "Yeah, yeah."

Harry frowned but didn't push the matter, and for that, John was thankful. Now that Hermione and Sherlock were seated at a respectable distance from one another, he couldn't remember what got him so worked up. After all, it was their business, he didn't care. He really didn't.

And if he kept glancing in their direction during the rest of the practice, it was just to make sure they weren't up to something. Not because he felt safer keeping an eye on them. Anyway, it didn't make him feel better, if anything, it made him feel angrier.

He wondered for a brief moment if someone would notice if he threw a bludger at them. Probably. And even if they didn't, Sherlock would probably deduce it himself.

When Harry called the session to an end, John felt more confused than he had felt in years. And it was all Mycroft's fault. If he didn't know then, he knew now. When Mycroft had mentioned Sherlock's feelings, he had meant as a friend. And if he had meant it otherwise, he'd been utterly wrong.

For all he knew, Sherlock was in love with Hermione. This would explain why she was his only female friend. And she probably felt the same way too. Perfect. Brilliant. Fantastic! He was happy for them, bloody ecstatic in fact.

He only felt angry because Sherlock hadn't been honest with him. Because he had kept a part of himself private when he never allowed John the same chance. Because he hadn't trusted him enough to tell him the truth. That was all.

John purposefully ignored the pang of pain in his chest as he walked out of the stadium to find Sherlock waiting for him, alone. He tried to smile but barely managed a feeble twitch on the corner of his lips.

He walked right past the Ravenclaw, his hands clenched into fists. He didn't even know why he was angry anymore; he just knew he wanted to be alone. And this time, alone meant without Sherlock as well.

Unfortunately, his friend was only good at reading people when it didn't especially matter. "What's wrong?" Sherlock asked as he caught up to John. He grabbed the Gryffindor's hand – it was a thing they did often since that first day before the Sorting – but John snapped his hand away.

Sherlock looked utterly surprised and… hurt. It was something John hadn't ever seen in his friend's eyes, and something he felt sure he never wanted to see again. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. Bad practice, not that you would know. I noticed you were pretty busy yourself."

John had tried to sound very casual, but even he knew he didn't fool anyone. Fortunately he was saved from further embarrassment as he heard someone call him from behind. He turned on his heels and saw Sarah walking towards him. He had never noticed how pretty she was before.

"Hi, I'm so glad I caught you." John couldn't help but smile. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade this weekend. With me?"

John tried not to cringe when he heard how squeaky she had sounded towards the end. He turned to where Sherlock had been standing only to find he was nowhere to be seen. He blinked furiously for a few seconds.

They always went to Hogsmeade together, since their first visit. Apparently, not this time. He tried to swallow down his guilt, reminding himself that if Sherlock could moon over Hermione, he could take a nice girl to Hogsmeade himself. He didn't need his permission anyway.

"Yeah, sure."

And when he saw her face light up he decided that he might even like the squeaky noises she made.

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><p><strong>Two new chapters tomorrow :) <strong>

***shameless begging for reviews***


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again :)**

**As promised, the next two chapters today :D Thanks to all those who left a review or added this story to their alert list, it means a lot :)**

**And here comes the trouble, these two will be a little bit angsty, but it'll get better :) Enjoy!**

**(for those of you wondering, the story will be about 21.000 words long)**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> **Nothing belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**A/N: I'm not english speaking, but I hope this won't prevent you from enjoying the story.**

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><p>The next day John made his way to their bench a little more slowly than usually. He hadn't seen Sherlock since yesterday, and frankly, he dreaded their next encounter. As far as he could remember, he had never rejected Sherlock when he had offered to comfort him before.<p>

Of course he hadn't meant to snap at him, he hadn't meant to hurt him. While his brain was trying to convince him that he had every right to be cross from time to time, his heart kept flashing him the look on Sherlock's face. And sure enough, guilt ensued.

When he finally arrived, he saw that Sherlock was already seated, a book in his hand. John quietly sat next to him, but when he noticed that his friend was ignoring him, he let out a deep sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry Sherlock. I didn't mean to be rude. I was just a bit upset."

"Yes, I know. It doesn't matter." His voice was unusually quiet. His face was expressionless and he never even looked up from the page he was reading.

John shook his head and snatched the book from his hands, snapping it shut. Sherlock almost jumped up in surprise and raised an eyebrow, finally looking up.

"I mean it, Sherlock. I'm really sorry."

"Yes. I _know_." He simply repeated. "And I forgive you. Now could I have my book back? I may have found something relevant to my experiment."

John searched his friend's face for any kind of deceit, but his eyes were perfectly blank. He sighed and gave the book back, even if he could feel something wasn't right.

There was something odd about the way Sherlock had spoken. He had been rude, cruel, very insensitive in the past, but never cold. Not to him. Yet his voice had sounded weirdly detached, neutral. And it made John's guts twist.

This time, John didn't try to put his feet on Sherlock's lap.

* * *

><p>Sherlock and John were walking down the corridor in silence later that day. They still spent most of their time together, but something was off. John felt as if he had to evaluate everything he was about to say before actually saying it, and Sherlock only gave one-worded answer. At best.<p>

John knew deep down that this was just temporary. He knew that Sherlock was just a bit sulky, that he would forgive him eventually. He just couldn't wait for this new phase to be over.

He only realized just now how much he had come to depend on Sherlock's friendship, at any time of the day, no matter what else happened. They were there for each other, they had been since the day they first met.

Now he felt more alone than he had in years. More alone than during summer vacations when he was stuck at home with a drunk Harriet. More alone than when he had waved his parents goodbye on platform 9 ¾. He couldn't stand it anymore. John let out a deep sigh.

"Look, Sherlock…"

"Hey, John!" Greg interrupted him, nonchalantly placing a hand on his shoulder. "I hear you've got yourself a date with Sarah Carson! About time, I'd say!"

John closed his eyes for a second. "Listen, Greg. I really don't…" When he opened his eyes again, Sherlock was gone. "… wanna talk about it…" His voice had gone so quiet that even Lestrade would have picked up on it.

John could have sworn he'd seen a flash of remorse in his friend's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Fine. Are you ready for the game next Saturday? You know who you're up against, right?"

John felt like Greg was forcing his cheeriness, but he didn't feel like doing the same. "Yeah, I know. You have a very good team this year." He half-smiled and felt Gregory tap his shoulder before quietly walking away.

It only took Greg a few seconds to find the person he was looking for. He grabbed his arm and hid them both where he was sure no one could hear them before sighing.

"You were right. Of course you were."

"When will you admit that I'm always right?" The other smirked.

"Not now, Mycroft. Something's definitely wrong. What are we going to do?"

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do. Yet." He sighed. "We'll have to let him figure it out for himself."

John entered the Great Hall and noticed – as he had expected – that Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. Since he didn't usually eat and that he was certainly not planning on talking to John this evening, he had no reason to be here.

He sat at the Gryffindor table and shoved food onto his plate. He wondered where Sherlock was, what he was doing, if he was really mad. How long would it take for him to realize that John was sorry? He had apologized after all. Maybe he should let him sulk it out…

"John?" Hermione's voice pulled him out his thoughts and he realized that he'd been holding his fork in mid-air for at least five minutes now.

He blinked furiously before clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I was just wondering if you were okay. You seem a bit… off today."

"I'm fine." John waved it off. "It's just… I haven't been very nice to Sherlock and now he won't talk to me. I don't know how to make it right."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "I'm sure he'll come around. I also heard you had a date this weekend?"

"What does this have to do with anything?" John frowned.

Her face dropped a little but she recovered quickly. "Nothing. I was just wondering if you were excited."

"Yeah. Absolutely." He knew he couldn't even have convinced himself. The truth was, he was sick with dread. He had gone on a few dates in the past, had even kissed a few girls. But somehow, things never worked out.

"I just hope I can make up with Sherlock before this weekend."

Hermione rubbed her hand over his and gave him a warm smile. She spent the rest of the evening deep in thoughts.

* * *

><p>The weekend had finally arrived and John still hadn't found the time to talk to Sherlock. Between his homework, his Quidditch practice and Sherlock's skills when it came to avoiding him, he really hadn't had much of a chance.<p>

He tried to push these thoughts to the back of his mind as he walked towards Sarah. She really was rather beautiful. She wasn't vain in the least and that was part of her beauty. She didn't try to charm, she just did, naturally.

"Hi."

"Hi."

John gave her a smile even though he felt like throwing up. He swallowed hard and took her arm with his, setting off to Hogsmeade in silence. Was he supposed to say something? It sure felt like it, this was all a bit awkward.

He had never thought of himself as one of those weird kids who couldn't chat with others naturally. But right now, he couldn't think of anything to say. Was it appropriate to talk about her future plans? Or about school? Did she want to talk about that sort of stuff?

It was hard to tell. After all, he didn't know the first thing about her.

"So, how's Quidditch practice going? Do you think you have a shot against Hufflepuff next week?" Sarah finally asked in her soft voice.

John finally allowed himself to breathe and from that point the conversation flowed easily between the two of them, up until they reached Hogsmeade.

"Hello John." Sherlock had come out of nowhere and was now standing right in front of them.

The first feeling of relief John felt when he realized that Sherlock was talking to him again soon faded. What was he doing here? Now? John half-gaped half-glared at his 'friend' but kept his mouth shut.

But apparently this wasn't going to put Sherlock off. "I don't believe we've met." He raised his hand with the fake smile John only knew too well. "I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes, I know." Sarah answered a bit awkwardly, taking his hand in hers and glancing at John. "Sarah. Sarah Carson."

Sherlock released her hand and tried to appear as charming as he could. It would have worked on anyone but John knew his tricks too well to believe him. He was still mad, and he had found the most appropriate way to get his revenge.

"I noticed you were on your way to Honeydukes. I was just going there myself. You don't mind if I tag along, do you?"

John shut his eyes, wishing the earth would just swallow him whole. However when he opened them again, he found that his wish had yet to come true.

"Er. No, why not." Sarah forced a smile but even John could tell she wasn't thrilled at the idea. To be perfectly honest, neither was he.

They started walking again, Sherlock right behind them, standing so close that John could feel his stare right through his clothes. He tried his best not to clench his fists and focused on Sarah. His date. He would deal with Sherlock later.

They entered the shop and John's hope that Sherlock would give them some space was crushed. He followed them everywhere. Sometimes making rude comments, sometimes just sneering at something Sarah said.

"Oh you should try these, they're delicious."

"John doesn't like them."

Sarah could not open her mouth without Sherlock attacking her, but John tried to remain calm, not wanting to make a scene. After they had bought every sort of candy imaginable, they got out of the store and Sarah scooped a little closer to John. He couldn't help but smile even when he could feel Sherlock glaring at them from behind.

"I'm a little thirsty. How does the Three Broomsticks sound?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and John was almost sure Sarah could have heard it.

"That sounds perfect." John answered, tightening his grip on Sarah's arm.

"I'd kill for a butterbeer."

"John doesn't drink." Sherlock said coldly.

John glared at Sherlock, knowing only too well what the Ravenclaw was getting at. And this topic was off-limits, he knew that. Sherlock simply shrugged and followed them into the pub, sitting at their table.

"I'll just be a minute." Sarah said before going to the loo.

As soon as she was out of hearing distance, John smashed his fist on the table, making Sherlock look up.

"What are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing at anything. I just felt like spending a little time with my _friend_."

"Don't give me that crap Sherlock!" John almost yelled, drawing a few gazes in their direction. "You've been avoiding me all week! You could have waited a few more hours! You're doing this on purpose aren't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sherlock simply answered as calmly as if John had been reading his shopping list.

"I'm serious, Sherlock, dammit! You can't just come with me when I'm on a date! I was really having a good time before _you_ showed up!"

"I can't see how you could have. She's plain, and tedious, and boring. She's just so normal!"

"Well, maybe normal is better from time to time!" John had lost it, he knew it even before the words left his mouth.

Sherlock went rigid, his face going a bit paler than before. His expression was perfectly blank but John could read between the lines. His jaw was clenched, his whole posture completely stiff. Sherlock looked away for a few seconds before hissing:

"Fine."

He got up and went for the door. Without knowing exactly how or why, John followed him, grabbing him arm before forcing Sherlock to look at him.

"You can't just follow me everywhere, especially when I'm on a date!" Sherlock didn't move an inch. "You don't own me, Sherlock!"

"I know." He finally whispered before turning on his heels, heading back towards the castle.

John just stood there for a moment before taking a deep breath and heading back inside. He found Sarah sitting at their table and he sat back next to her.

"Where's Sherlock?"

John forced a smile. "He's gone."

* * *

><p>Back in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was quietly reading by the fire when she saw her owl by the window. She quickly rose from her seat and let her in, grabbing the little piece of parchment she had brought with her, unfolding it to reveal two words she instantly understood:<p>

_Astronomy Tower._

She gently stroked her owl's feather and sent her to the Owlery before rushing out. She shoved the piece of parchment in her pocket and ran her way to the Astronomy Tower. A few minutes later, she found a skinny, dark figure sitting on the floor, their head buried in their knees.

She approached her friend carefully, dropping to her knees right behind him before circling his shoulders with her arms. She placed her chin on his left shoulder and buried her nose in the crook of his neck.

"It's okay Sherlock…" She whispered after a few minutes.

She tried to soothe him as best as she could, knowing only too well what must have happened. Boys could be so thick sometimes…

After what felt like an hour, she dried off the tears Sherlock hadn't noticed he'd been shedding and placed a soft kiss on his temple. "Do you want to be alone now?"

The Ravenclaw simply nodded, putting his hand on top of Hermione's as a thank you. She rose to her feet and headed for the door. "Anytime, Sherlock."

As soon as he was alone, Sherlock reached for his pack of cigarettes and lit one, savoring the sensation he'd been craving for all the past few weeks. He rarely allowed himself to smoke in the castle, but he felt quite sure that this situation could count as an exception.

He silently hoped that Filch wouldn't come here on his round. All he really needed right now was to be left alone.

* * *

><p>John woke up in a foul mood the next morning. He didn't need much skill at deduction to know that Sherlock would be avoiding him again. As much as he wanted to convince himself it was just as well, there was always a little part of him that wanted to forgive him.<p>

He truly loved Sherlock. For his qualities and his flaws. Even if his flaws included acting like a five-year old sometimes.

However he couldn't just run up to him and make things right again. If Sherlock couldn't understand what he had done wrong, then it was no use trying to explain it to him. Somehow he felt it was okay to be at war with Sherlock for the time being, because he knew they couldn't stay apart forever. They would talk again, and everything would be back to normal. Just not yet.

He quickly took a shower and dressed before heading out of the common room. The hallways were very quiet, after all it was Sunday and most students were still asleep. However the relative silence of the castle only served to make hallway conversations sound louder than they actually were.

John could hear whispers at the end of the corridor and his feet moved of their own accord. These voices sounded… familiar somehow. However, he couldn't make out what the two students were saying or who they were. He stopped dead in his tracks and quickly hid against the wall when he finally saw who the silhouettes were.

Gregory Lestrade shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't." He whispered before turning away, leaving Mycroft alone in his wake.

John leaned against the wall a little bit and saw something he could have had nightmares about. Mycroft's expression was so openly sad it was difficult to imagine him in his usual business stature. There was something broken about the way he stood, the way he ran his hand through his hair and the way he was staring at the empty space in front of him.

John decided he had seen enough and walked away as quietly as he could, a million thoughts running through his head. Since when did Mycroft feel anything? And more importantly, since when did he _show_ these emotions?

He shook his head and tried to delete these pictures from his mind, knowing all along that he would never be able to.

John entered the Great Hall a few minutes later and sat at the Gryffindor table without looking up once. However, he made sure he was facing the Ravenclaw table… just in case Sherlock decided to come to breakfast.

But of course, he wasn't there. John sighed into his breakfast and started chewing absent-mindedly. Sarah came in ten minutes after him and came to sit next to him. She gave him a warm smile and John did his best to smile back. He wasn't sure he could though.

Then Hermione took her place almost right in front of him. He nodded to her but she didn't respond, she simply tilted her head to look at the Great Hall doors. John followed her gaze and nearly dropped his fork at the sight.

Mycroft and Sherlock were walking in the room. Together. But that wasn't the most shocking piece of information the scene provided. Mycroft's expression was perfectly calm again, there was no trace of his previous breakdown. Worst of all was Sherlock.

He looked so pale John might have mistaken him for a ghost had he not known better. He looked as if he hadn't eaten in days and not slept in weeks. John felt his chest tighten at the state of his friend. He had seen him yesterday and hadn't noticed anything…

Sherlock sat down and refused to look at him, not that John had expected something else. But Hermione kept glancing his way as if he was Voldemort himself, and even without turning back, John could feel Mycroft glaring at him through the Hall.

He knew Sherlock seldom ate or slept as a matter of principle, but somehow he felt he was responsible. Mycroft's stare wasn't helping. His previous anger began to fade as guilt arose. He couldn't take it, not now. Because if he didn't leave soon, he just knew he would end up running to the Ravenclaw table to hug the sodding bastard he called his best friend.

And he couldn't. Not yet. So he slowly got up, and left the Great Hall with as much grace as he could muster under the circumstances.

* * *

><p><strong>I don't know about you, but at this point in the story I want to knock their silly heads together :)<strong>

**Take the time to review, honestly, you can't begin to imagine how glad I am to have feedback :) Next chapter coming up!**


	4. Chapter 4

John hadn't talked to Sherlock in a week, and he was beginning to tire of the whole thing. A part of him was still mad about what his friend had done, the other craved for his company as if they hadn't seen each other for a year.

And frankly, he didn't know what to do. Perhaps he was still waiting for Sherlock to apologize to him, even if he knew what the odds were of anything like this happening. He couldn't help but wonder how Sherlock was coping without him and a selfish part of him wanted to believe that the Ravenclaw was as miserable as he was.

John got dressed and walked downstairs to the common room. His eyes shot open at the sight awaiting him. The room was unusually crowded and loud for such an early hour in the morning. He could see a group of third years moaning in a corner, a few first years looking completely lost and most of the seventh and sixth years gathered around what appeared to be a piece of paper on the wall.

His curiosity spiked, John elbowed his way through the crowd and finally caught a glimpse of the sheet. A Ball, apparently. Next Friday, to celebrate the October break. He pushed past a girl he had never seen before and managed to read the end of the announcement.

The event was sixth and seventh years only, apparently the punch would not be virgin this time. This was the stupidest thing the Headmaster had ever done in John's opinion. Putting alcohol in the punch wouldn't stop the students from spiking it again…

He turned on his heels and frowned when he saw Harriet's smile. Of course. She wouldn't miss an opportunity to get drunk, not if it killed her. As if she had read his mind, Harriet shot him a glare and left the room.

John sighed and left too, standing against the wall outside the common room. He guessed he'd go with Sarah and try to keep an eye on his sister. For some reason, the idea didn't appeal to him one bit.

He hadn't kissed her yet, and he was afraid to think of the reason. Mainly because he feared he knew it already. Sarah was lovely, she was sweet, intelligent and boringly common.

He had never thought he would say this one day, but he missed Sherlock's insanity. He missed the owls in the middle of the night, the lunches in the park, the craziness. He missed stealing from Snape's store. He missed their natural ease with each other. He missed the way Sherlock would comfort him without a word.

But they couldn't have stayed like this forever, even he knew that. Someday they would get married, move to different towns, have kids of their own and maybe send each other a letter from time to time. But that was it. Maybe it was time to move on.

They would always be friends, but eventually they would drift away from one another. It was just easier that way. Healthier. He swallowed the lump in his throat and headed for the Great Hall, he needed to find Sarah.

* * *

><p>The Great Hall had been decorated in orange and black for Halloween, but luckily for John, they hadn't been asked to dress up. He'd had enough trouble finding a suit, he really didn't want to imagine the hell it would have been to find a costume.<p>

Besides, he hated dressing up.

His eyes roamed the room in search of his date for the evening, and, as he had expected, Sarah was beautiful. Her dress wasn't long but not short enough to be vulgar. It fell gracefully to her knees, and she wore a long necklace that disappeared into her modest cleavage. All in all, she was lovely.

They met at the bar and he deposited a kiss on her cheek, making her blush a little. He gave her a smile and poured her a bowl of punch before getting a glass of soda for himself. He sniffed it first to make sure no one had had time to spike it yet, and, satisfied with the result, swallowed it down.

Sarah eyed him curiously but he just shrugged it away. He wasn't nervous, just really really thirsty. He saw Greg and Mycroft enter together and frowned. Did these two even know each other? But he didn't have time to ponder the question as he saw another pair of students coming in.

He noticed Sherlock first and smiled a bit. However the smile died down before it was even born when he saw Hermione walking in with him. The picture made his guts twist uncomfortably for a reason he couldn't – and wouldn't – explain.

Sherlock was rather elegant, his natural grace only heightened by the suit he was wearing. Hermione was beautiful herself, but oddly enough, it was Sherlock who drew John's gaze. He obviously felt comfortable in his attire but John had never seen him wear one before. He wondered how often the Ravenclaw was forced to dress like this…

"John?" Sarah's voice pulled him out of his reverie and his eyes snapped open.

"I'm sorry. Were you saying something?" He tried a small smile and Sarah's expression immediately softened.

"No, I just thought you looked a bit… odd."

"Yes. Er, sorry. I was just thinking."

"It's Sherlock, isn't it?" She whispered making John jump up in surprise. He felt panic rise in his chest without even knowing why. "You were staring at him… do you miss being his friend?"

"I'm still his friend." John frowned.

He saw Sarah smile a little and relaxed. "I know he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but I… well, yeah, I kinda miss him."

Sarah rubbed his arm softly just as Greg came up to them.

"Hi." His almost shaky voice caused John to frown again.

"Are you all right Greg? You seem a bit… tense."

"No, no. I'm fine." He swallowed his glass of punch in one gulp before turning to Sarah. "Hello Sarah. You look lovely."

Her face lit up into a smile. "Why, thank you Gregory. You look pretty good yourself." The Hufflepuff chuckled but John saw he had to force it a little. "Did you come with a date?"

Greg ran a hand through his hair, his hand almost shaking. "Yeah, sort of."

John frowned but his answer was cut off by the Headmaster's speech, declaring the Ball open. John felt Greg tense up even more if this was possible and wondered what was wrong with him. He looked like a virgin on her wedding night. Worse, even.

But before he could ask Greg what was the matter, he saw Mycroft walk up in their direction and let out a sigh. What did he want now? However he soon realized that the elder Holmes brother wasn't looking at him, in fact he was staring at… no.

"May I have this dance?" Mycroft whispered, extending his hand to Greg.

The Hufflepuff swallowed hard before accepting it and John gaped at them, more shocked than he had ever been in his life. Mycroft and Greg. Greg and Mycroft. He wouldn't have guessed in a million years, it all felt… weird.

At least it did until John noticed something. Mycroft had intertwined their fingers and Greg was running his thumb over the back of his hand, smiling up at the Slytherin boy. His whole body had relaxed under Mycroft's simple touch and he looked happier than John had ever seen him.

Now it was the Gryffindor's turn to feel nervous for them. Even nowadays, homosexuality wasn't always well perceived, especially in the magical world. In some aspects wizards were centuries behind muggles, and he feared that tolerance was one of them. In just a few seconds people would start noticing them and… well here it was.

The whole room had fallen silent in a matter of seconds, apart from the music playing in background. Everyone was now staring at the odd couple dancing alone in the middle of the crowd. John heard whispers beginning to form here and there and made a decision.

He reached out his hand in Sarah direction. "Would you like to dance?"

She gave him a proud smile and accepted his hand as he led them to the dance floor. John noticed Harry and a blond Slytherin boy ( Draco, his name was ) staring at each other awkwardly and shrugged. Then he saw Dumbledore rise up from his chair and ask Professor McGonagall to dance as well.

He could have sworn he saw the Headmaster's eyes twinkle but he chose to ignore this piece of information. Safer if he didn't want to have any nightmares that night.

John found his gaze drawn to Sherlock but the Ravenclaw wasn't looking back. He was eyeing the crowd expectantly, his fist clenched at his side. Mycroft let his left hand fall on Greg's hip and tightened its grip there before moving him a bit closer.

Greg simply smiled up at him and John found he envied them in some way. Being this close to someone, being this comfortable with the person you loved, this was what he wanted. His brain told him to move his hand a little bit lower on Sarah's back but for some reason, his body refused.

Mycroft looked at him and John had the feeling that the Slytherin knew something. Something he didn't know himself for he saw a flash lighten up the boy's eyes before his lips twitched into a grin. However it was gone in an instant, leaving John with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Then, something went wrong. John could feel it even before it happened, the tension had been building up in the room and it was only a matter of seconds before someone made a snide comment. He heard a Gryffindor boy clear his throat and saw Sherlock draw out his wand in a flash.

It all happened very fast. The boy had started raising his voice. "I can't even believe those people are allowed…"

The hex went off, snapping – more probably gluing – the boy's mouth shut. When John looked back at Sherlock, he was standing very stiff but his wand was nowhere to be seen. Professor Flitwick was eyeing his student warily but John was almost sure he saw the older man wink at him. He couldn't be sure though.

The Gryffindor couldn't help himself, he saw Sherlock look at him for a few seconds and flashed him an amused grin. Sherlock nodded imperceptibly and looked away again. John felt his stomach drop a little and focused his attention of the dance. He couldn't let himself be sad, after all, he had asked for it…

The song ended and the Hall erupted in applause, and even if John could still see a few students gritting their teeth in disapproval, he was happy for Greg and Mycroft. He took Sarah's arm and led her to a small group of Gryffindor by the bar. Harry, Ron and Seamus were chatting, although to be more precise, it seemed more like a drunken Ron was saying everything he could think of.

"I didn't know Lestrade was a fag, did you John?" The red-head asked, slapping his shoulder with a little more force than necessary.

Harry looked slightly uncomfortable and John gritted his teeth in disgust, wondering if he was more unnerved by the term 'fag' or by the drunken state of his fellow Housemate. It didn't really matter in the end as he saw Hermione and Sherlock join them, their arms linked.

He tried to ignore the knot in his stomach as Ron spoke up again. "You wanna dance, Mione?"

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. And even though John knew she would say no, a small part of him was still hoping she would accept the invitation and leave Sherlock alone. He preferred not to think of what this said about him.

"She's not interested." Sherlock's voice, although calm and low, silenced everyone in the group.

John simply stared at his friend, doing his best to ignore the tightening in his chest. "That's none of your business, Holmes!"

"Ron, you shouldn't drink this much…" Hermione's voice was trying to soothe her friend, but apparently it only made Ron angrier.

"You're not my mother!"

"Obviously." John shook his head trying to stop Sherlock but he knew it was too late. "I assume you would not spend as much time trying to bed her if she was."

And then, Ron lost it. John saw him clench his hand into a fist and take a step towards Sherlock. His body reacted instantly, he let go of Sarah's arm and grabbed the red-head by his collar.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

John saw Sherlock's eyes widen in surprise and he immediately let go of Ron. He could feel everyone staring at him and felt almost relieved when he heard Hermione's voice. "Come, Sherlock."

She grabbed his arm and led him to the dance floor, leaving a very confused John in their wake. The Gryffindor grabbed Sarah's hand in his. "Do you want to dance?"

She nodded softly and let him take her on the dance floor too. He put his hand behind her back and began moving along with the music. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have done that."

"Ron would have punched Sherlock if you hadn't."

"Probably, yes." John answered, stifling a sigh.

"I understand, John. He's your friend." She gave him a soft smile but John simply nodded in return. He wasn't sure this was the real reason behind his behavior.

"You didn't need to do that you know." Hermione whispered in a smile. "But thank you."

Sherlock nodded. "Do you think he'll award 5 points to Ravenclaw for my trouble?"

"That's not funny, Sherlock."

"I'm sorry." The Ravenclaw murmured back. "Judging by the way he's been glaring at me all night, I'm more likely to get killed than rewarded anyway."

Hermione chuckled. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She grinned like a cat and raised an eyebrow. "I noticed that John is looking very handsome tonight."

Sherlock suppressed a smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

As the song ended, Sarah excused herself to the loo and John made his way towards the bar, seeing that Greg was alone there. The Hufflepuff looked up anxiously and John pulled him into a hug.

"I had no idea, Greg. But I'm very happy for you." John reassured Greg, freeing his friend of his embrace. "Mycroft though? Really?" John couldn't help but grin at his embarrassed expression.

"Yes, John. He is beautiful." John's eyebrows shot up in surprise and Greg smiled a bit. "To me, he is."

The Gryffindor took a seat and grabbed another drink. "Wow. How long has this been going on?"

"Two years." Greg sighed at John's surprise. "We got to know each other in my second year and well… we got pretty close."

"Why did you hide when you were friends?"

"We weren't really friends. We both knew it was… something more from the beginning. And to be honest, we felt a little weird showing it."

John nodded his head in acceptance and sipped at his drink. "This Ball was Mycroft's idea you know."

"What? But… why?"

"Among other reasons, Mycroft wanted us to… come out."

"So he convinced Dumbledore to throw a ball?" John chuckled before realizing something. "Wait. What other reasons?"

Greg sighed. "Look, John. I know what it feels like to hide something personal…"

"What are you implying?" John interrupted a bit abruptly.

Lestrade got up and put his drink on the table. "I'm just saying that you won't have another ball like this at Hogwarts. This won't happen again." Greg took a deep breath. "John, are you sure you're dancing with the right person?"

John felt his stomach drop, his throat tighten and his heart rate speed up. He looked up at his friend and, seeing how serious he was being, decided he needed to be honest, with Greg and with himself.

"I don't know…"

Greg simply nodded and walked away, joining Mycroft and circling his arm around his waist. John couldn't help but smile at this. They really did make a beautiful couple.

"One last dance?" Sarah smiled down at him, her hand raised in the air.

"Sure." He murmured, taking her hand.

Mid-dance he saw Sherlock leaving the Great Hall with Hermione and closed his eyes in defeat. Now that he was gone, he wasn't sure he wanted to be here anymore.

* * *

><p>"<em>John…" Sherlock whispered in a broken voice. "I… I don't want to hide anymore…"<em>

_I stroked his cheek with the tip of my fingers before running them through his mass of black curls. "I know…" I stood on my toes to press my forehead against his, mingling our breaths together._

_I could feel his grip tighten on my waist before he brought our hips together, causing my stomach to jump in excitement. I grabbed his head with both my hands, urging him closer. Our lips were se close I could almost feel his against mine. I tilted my head and…_

"Mr Watson! Wake up!"

John jumped up in surprise and pulled the covers up to his nose. He took a few seconds to catch his breath before sighing. "Professor McGonagall? What are you doing here?"

"Something happened. You need to come with me…"

* * *

><p><strong>A little cliffy, I hope you don't mind :] But I gave you some Mystrade, surely, you forgive me *puppy eyes*<strong>

**There is more Mystrade and Hotson to come (and if you squint really hard you'll see a bit of Snanger, but I'm afraid I didn't write any more Drarry)**

**Please review, I will worship you forever :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**There you are :) Sorry it's a little later than usual, I went to see Tintin ( Jamie Bell & Steven Moffat, come on ) and it was amazing :)**

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed this story, it's really nice of you :) I love you all!  
><strong>

**Anyway, enjoy :)**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.<strong>

**A/N: I'm not english speaking, but I hope this won't prevent you from enjoying the story.**

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><p>John was sitting in the infirmary, his head buried in his hands. He hadn't slept more than two hours last night but he wouldn't allow sleep to take over. He needed to stay alert, just in case something happened. Mrs. Pomfrey had told him everything would be fine, but he needed to be sure, he couldn't just leave…<p>

He looked up at the silhouette laid on the bed and wondered how it had all happened…

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><p>"<em>Something happened. You need to come with me…"<em>

_John sat up in one quick movement, suddenly wide awake. "What? What happened?"_

"_It's your sister."_

_John jumped out of bed and grabbed his pants. "She fell down the stairs after the Ball. She's in the hospital wing, unconscious."_

_He stopped in his movements, his pants only half pulled up. He could feel himself getting paler by the second. The rest of their discussion was a blur. He wasn't even sure he heard any of it._

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><p>Of course, he knew all too well what had happened. His sister had got pissed at the Ball and she had lost her balance going back to the Gryffindor common room.<p>

He remembered his plan to look after her and swallowed hard. He had been distracted. With Sherlock, and Sarah, and Mycroft, and Greg… He didn't even remember seeing Harriet at the Ball…

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he heard someone coming in. He knew who it was but he didn't take his eyes off his sister's body.

"John? Are you all right?" Sarah's voice was soft but it didn't soothe him in the least.

He bit his tongue trying to calm down but his voice was colder than he had intended. "Yeah, I'm fine. Look, I just really need to be alone right now."

Sarah almost jumped back as if burnt. "Oh. Okay…" She turned to leave but stopped halfway. "I'll be back tonight to check up on you."

John gritted his teeth but didn't answer and Sarah left without another word.

He hadn't meant to snap at her, he usually wasn't rude but this was beyond his control now. He wanted to throw something, he needed something to calm himself on or he was going to snap entirely.

He could feel his throat tightening dangerously, his eyes beginning to burn, his breath coming in short gasps. He knew what was coming but forced the tears back, crying was no use.

An hour later, he heard someone else coming in. The footsteps were regular, light but determined and John knew who this was without needing to hear his voice. He forced himself not to turn around, he couldn't deal with this, not now, not here.

Sherlock grabbed a chair and placed it right next to John's. The Gryffindor opened his mouth to tell him to go away but no sound came out. Sherlock wriggled in his chair and placed his hand over John's, and when he saw that his friend didn't try to move away, he took it in his, intertwining their fingers.

John felt his first tear running down his cheek and literally threw himself at Sherlock. He buried his nose in the Ravenclaw's shoulder, nearly settling himself in his lap and gripping his shirt tight. Then, he let himself go.

Sherlock hadn't moved an inch when John had jumped. Actually, he felt he needed this just as much as John did. He let his friend silently sob in his shoulder, rubbing his hand on his back to soothe him.

"It's not your fault." He finally whispered after a few minutes of silence.

John took a deep breath and nodded softly in Sherlock's shoulder. When he was all cried out, he tried to adjust his body to fit more comfortably on his friend's lap and felt Sherlock tighten his grip on his waist.

Apparently Sherlock didn't want him to leave and that was good, because he wasn't going anywhere.

"I don't want to fight anymore…" He whispered in Sherlock's neck.

"Me neither…"

A few minutes later, John was fast asleep. Sherlock didn't let go, he only moved a bit to leave a gentle kiss on John's temple.

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><p>Harriet woke up a few hours later and found her brother at her side, asleep in his best friend's arms. Sherlock had his hand in his hair and was gently stroking it. She knew he had seen her move, but she didn't say a word.<p>

The Ravenclaw turned to her and sent her his best glare, unconsciously tightening his grip on John. Harriet swallowed hard. He didn't need any words, his eyes spoke volumes: _Look at what you did to him._

The Gryffindor silently nodded and sat up in her bed, burying her head in her hands. She took a deep breath. "You know it's only a matter of time before he understands." Harriet sighed, unwilling to look Sherlock in the eyes. "Then, what'll happen?"

"The decision is not mine to make."

She chuckled. "Oh you're just as clueless as he is, aren't you?"

Sherlock frowned but shut his mouth as he heard someone coming in.

"Oh. Hello Sarah. Came to look after John did you?"

The Ravenclaw stroked John's hair one last time before untangling the Gryffindor from him. He sat him back in his own chair and got up. He ignored Harriet's stare and nodded to Sarah before leaving the infirmary.

"So, how are you feeling?" Sarah asked a little awkwardly.

Yes, ignoring the elephant in the room. They could do that.

"I'm okay, I guess. I've got one hell of a headache though." Harriet cleared her throat. "Do you think we should wake him up?" She asked nodding towards John.

"He probably would want to know you're fine." Sarah smiled and put a hand on John's shoulder, shaking it lightly. "John? John, wake up."

The Gryffindor woke up with a start, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'Shlock'.

"Sarah?" He whispered, blinking furiously. "What are you- Harriet? You're awake."

"Apparently, yes."

John shook his head with a soft smile gracing his lips. "Don't start with me. How are you feeling?" He reached out his hand and grabbed Harriet's.

"I'm fine, John. Honestly."

Sarah cleared her throat. "Er. I should probably leave you two alone."

John's head snapped up as the memories of what he had done came back to him. He really hadn't been very nice to Sarah earlier, and even if he'd been upset then, it was no excuse. He got up and scratched his head awkwardly.

"Er. Could I have a word with you?" Sarah nodded and made her way towards the corridor. "I'll be right back." John kissed his sister's cheek and followed the Gryffindor outside.

Now that he was actually paying attention to Sarah's expression, he could tell something was wrong. She didn't seem upset, per say, she just didn't seem particularly happy with him. "Look, I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier, I was upset and I didn't mean to snap…"

"You said you didn't want to see anyone." She whispered.

Slightly taken aback, John ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. "Yes. That's true. And I shouldn't have snapped at you, I'm sorry if I've…" Sarah slowly shook her head and John closed his mouth. Had he said something wrong?

"I saw him." Her voice was surprisingly calm and steady, but even John knew she was upset now.

"Oh. Did he say something to bother you?" After all, it wouldn't be the first time. Sherlock was known for his lack of skill when it came to social matters.

"No, no. He wouldn't do th…" John raised an eyebrow and Sarah stopped. "Nevermind."

"So, er… What's wrong?"

"You said you didn't want to see _anyone_."

"Oh." Oh, indeed. Sarah's meaning hit him like a ton of bricks. He… well, he hadn't even thought about that. He had needed Sherlock by his side, he hadn't wondered why or how. It had been one of these truths you spent years trying to deny before they came crashing down on you.

He needed Sherlock when it mattered most. He needed… Sherlock.

"I… yes, but… Sherlock isn't just _anyone_, he… well, we…" John sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fists. He couldn't quite explain it; somehow he didn't mind being with Sherlock, even when what he needed most was to be left alone.

He could feel himself tearing up again. He understood now. The jealousy. His reluctance when it came to taking things further with Sarah. The warm feeling in his chest whenever Sherlock would nonchalantly intertwine their fingers. The fight. The Ball.

It all made sense. He looked in Sarah's eyes and knew that she understood too. Probably better than he ever would.

He couldn't be Sherlock's friend and Sarah's boyfriend, and if he had to choose between the two, the decision would be painfully easy to make.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered, his voice a little shaky.

"Don't be." And with a soft smile, she was gone.

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><p>Sherlock was walking through the park, his hand ruffling his hair, a small smile gracing his lips now and again. He simply couldn't help it. Knowing that everything was back to normal between him and John was such a relief he was even ready to forget about Sarah for a while.<p>

The lack of John in his life had been exhausting. So tiring in fact that he had been on the verge of apologizing to him. He didn't feel sorry for what he had done, he was only trying to make John see, to force his little brain to understand that he didn't belong with Sarah. He couldn't, not when Sherlock could lo…

He simply didn't.

But if apologizing to John could have made them friends again, he would have gotten on his knees in front of the whole school. Fortunately, he didn't have to now.

Sherlock looked up and felt his smile die down on his lips. "What do you want?"

"There's no need to be so aggressive, Sherlock." Mycroft walked up to him, grinning like a cat.

"I knew the day was going too well. Obviously, it couldn't last." The Ravenclaw groaned.

"Ah. I assume you've got some good news for me, then."

Sherlock turned back to glare at his brother. "No."

"Don't be so secretive, Sherlock. You know how much Mummy would want us to get along."

The Ravenclaw stopped dead in his tracks, closing his eyes tightly. Why did Mycroft _always_ have to play the Mother-card? "Fine, say your piece and sod off."

Mycroft tilted his head and gave him an amused smile. "I'm very happy to see that things are better between you and John."

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, they are." Sherlock hissed.

"It could be my business, Sherlock."

"No, it couldn't."

"Don't I have a right to be worried about my little brother?"

Sherlock decided not to mention that they were the same height and practically the same age. He remembered that one time when Mycroft had hit him with his umbrella and this was by no means an experience he wished to live again.

"There's a difference between worrying and stalking, Mycroft."

"You won't let me look after you any other way. I'll do what I have to."

Sherlock looked away, sensing the discussion was rolling down a path he didn't wish to follow. He nodded his head towards a group of Gryffindors whispering loud enough for the whole castle to hear.

"Maybe you should mind your own business, Mycroft. I fear you will have to deal with your own issues soon enough."

"Oh so you worry about me now? How nice." Mycroft's grin was answered with a glare. "These kids won't be a problem. They wouldn't have the guts to attack a Head Boy in broad daylight. At night however… Mh… maybe. We'll see."

Sherlock saw Greg walk out of the castle and feigned disinterest. An art, he had been told, he excelled at. "What does Lestrade think of all this?"

"He's still struggling with it, although he won't admit it. But thank you for your concern."

Sherlock groaned and Mycroft smiled. The elder brother didn't need Sherlock to confess he cared. He was as observant as the Ravenclaw, if not a bit more when it came to people's emotions. After all, he'd had a lot of… practice over the years.

"Hello Sherlock." Greg greeted as he finally caught up to them.

"Lestrade." Sherlock nodded.

Mycroft slipped his hand in Greg's and naturally leaned into him to give him a kiss. Sherlock took this as his cue to leave and headed back towards the castle.

"So," Lestrade chuckled when he was sure the Ravenclaw was out of earshot. "How are things looking between the two of them?"

"Interesting. Very interesting indeed." They both grinned and began walking towards the lake in a silent understanding.

Mycroft felt Greg tense up as they walked by the group of Gryffindors and he let out a sigh. "You shouldn't let them get to you."

"They don't." The Hufflepuff answered in a smile. Mycroft could still tell his boyfriend wasn't being honest with him but he decided to let it slide. Greg would talk to him when he felt ready. "So, what do you want to do tonight?"

Mycroft let his gaze wander down to Lestrade's ass and grinned. "I do have a few ideas."

Greg shook his head but couldn't suppress a smile. "I'll come round your quarters then?"

"I was rather hoping I could come and visit you in the Hufflepuff dorms instead."

Lestrade frowned. "But… we don't have to. Your rooms allow us a bit of privacy."

"Exactly." Mycroft was grinning up to his ears and Gregory stifled a giggle.

"You pervert."

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><p>The next day, John got out of the castle at lunch time. He wasn't sure Sherlock would want to stay with him, they hadn't talked about it. They usually didn't have to, but things had changed in the last few weeks. And John really feared he would find an empty bench waiting for him.<p>

However, he sped up his steps. He needed to have an answer, he needed to know if things were back to normal or if he had imagined the whole thing.

Would they still be able to talk? Could they pretend nothing had happened? Did he even want to? He had come to realize just how much Sherlock meant to him, and as troubling as this piece of information was, he wasn't sure he wanted it forgotten.

Taking a deep breath, John walked past the large bush hiding the bench from sight and instantly relaxed. Sherlock was seating there, a book on his lap and his usual stern expression back in place. He looked up from the page as he heard John arrive and stated:

"You were afraid I wouldn't be here."

Relief washed over John and he let out a deep chuckle. Everything was indeed back to normal. He sat next to Sherlock and let his head fall back in full laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" Sherlock asked with a frown.

John shook his head and shot him a smile. "Nothing."

Sherlock eyed him curiously for a few seconds and finally let the matter drop. There were things he would never understand about John Watson. But maybe this was for the best.

The Ravenclaw suddenly put his book beside him on the bench and leaned down. "Sherlock? What are you-" But John stopped himself when he felt Sherlock grab his ankles and pull them up, finally resting them on his lap.

He smiled a little as Sherlock grabbed his book back. He could have sworn he saw the corner of Sherlock's lips twitch but he chose not to comment on it. He didn't have to. He knew, and Sherlock knew he knew. That was enough.

John tried to relax but he felt very self-conscious all of a sudden. He was very aware of his legs and this seemed to be everything he could think about. He could feel them burn at every point of contact they had with Sherlock's lap.

He swallowed hard. Maybe things weren't exactly back to normal. He took out his lunch and began eating, trying to ease some of the tension. Unfortunately, he knew Sherlock could feel every twitch in his muscles, every breath he took, every glance he threw his way.

The Ravenclaw released one of his hands from his grip on the book and naturally let it rest on John's leg. His eyes never left the page but John knew the gesture was deliberate. His hand began moving slowly up and down John's leg, gently stroking it in what seemed to be an unconscious gesture.

John knew better, but he found the action quite soothing and he quickly felt his body relax under Sherlock's simple touch. He let out a quiet breath and took a bite from his sandwich.

"Sarah and I broke up." He had tried to sound very casual but his heart wouldn't let him forget how important Sherlock's reaction would be.

"I know." He answered, not looking up from his book.

"How do you even- No. You know what? I don't want to know." John sighed.

"I'm sorry."

John shook his head and rolled his eyes. "No you're not."

This time, Sherlock did look up. His usually piercing gray eyes seemed uncertain right now and John felt his heart flutter in response. "What if I'm not?"

John couldn't help but smile at the softness in Sherlock's voice. "It's all fine."

Maybe things weren't exactly back to normal. Maybe this was a good thing too.

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><p><strong>Please take the time to review! It really means a lot to me :) Next chapter coming up :)<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

John and Sherlock were walking down the Hogwarts' park towards the Quidditch pitch. They were walking so close to each other that their shoulders, their arms and the backs of their hands brushed at every other step they took. Oddly enough, neither of them seemed to mind. After all, winter was on its way and a little body warmth was not unwelcome.

"Are you sure you want to come and watch the team practice?" John asked, lifting his head a bit to catch his friend's eyes.

"I don't have anything better to do with my time, so I might as well." Sherlock shrugged.

"How nice of you." The Gryffindor replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, I could ask Harry to kick you out. Our next game is against Ravenclaw, after all."

John grinned as he saw the corner of Sherlock's lips twitch. "Yes, you could."

The Gryffindor stifled a chuckle. He was glad Sherlock was coming, even if it was just to see Hermione. A little part of him wanted to believe that Sherlock simply wanted to spend more time with him and, no matter how unlikely the whole concept was, it made John's heart swell up in his chest.

However, none of these theories were correct. Sherlock did want to spend more time with John, but more than anything he wanted to be sure that the Gryffindor wouldn't meet another woman at Quidditch practice. The whole 'Sarah incident' – as it had come to be called – had left some unpleasant memories in his brain. Some he was desperate not to experience again.

"Wait, Sherlock! Where did you get that scarf?" John's eyebrows shot up when he noticed the red-and-golden fabric around the Ravenclaw's neck.

Sherlock simply shrugged. "I couldn't find mine, so I stole yours."

"Right." John cleared his throat. "Do you think you lost it?"

Sherlock grinned. "It is the most logical assumption. After all, I can't see any reason why someone would want to steal it."

John felt very flushed all of a sudden; surely anyone in a fifty feet radius would see his cheeks had turned bright red. He hadn't meant to steal Sherlock's scarf, he had just… forgotten to return it. It had been a pretty busy week and, oh good Lord, he really needed to stop thinking of what he'd done with that scarf or Sherlock would mistake him for a radiator. Surely the Ravenclaw could tell something was wrong and John cleared his throat.

"I'm sure it'll turn up eventually."

"It doesn't matter. I'll ask the school for a new one." John looked away smiling as Sherlock buried his nose in his friend's scarf, enjoying the scent that only one word could describe: John. Maybe he would _forget_ to give it back too.

John saw Greg walking back to the castle and let out a quiet breath. He didn't want to hear the word 'scarf' for at least a week, he needed a distraction.

"Hi Greg!" The Hufflepuff blinked a few times before realizing someone had been calling for him. He looked up and gave them a small smile before heading in their direction.

Gregory looked exhausted. He was covered in mud from head to toe and looked as if he hadn't slept in days. Somehow, John felt that something was bothering him. "How was Quidditch practice?"

He shrugged. "Fine. It was fine." He tried a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and sighed. "Look, I'm really tired, I should be off. Good luck with your team."

"Okay." John tried to hide his concern but he couldn't say the gesture had been a success. "See you, then."

"Nice scarf." Greg chuckled, nodding towards Sherlock's neck. John winced, Sherlock grinned and Greg finally walked away.

Trying to regain some composure, John turned towards his friend. "What is wrong with him?"

"It should be fairly easy to deduce." John saw something light up in Sherlock's eyes and couldn't suppress a smile. This was his detective mode. "He had bags under his eyes, probably from lack of sleep, but his eyes were a bit puffy as well. It could be allergies or stress, but he doesn't have any important exams this year, so he's probably been crying."

John raised his eyebrows but Sherlock didn't stop. "Clearly he's upset about something. He's lost five pounds in the last two weeks so obviously he hasn't been eating much. It took him a few seconds to even acknowledge our presence, he was probably worrying over something personal which would explain the lack of focus. He didn't show any signs of his usual post-practice glee, clearly something's been keeping from enjoying this… sport of his."

Sherlock ignored John's groan and took a deep breath. "He's depressed or anxious about something. Stress is an option, but depression seems a more likely alternative."

John stared at his friend, shocked. "Do you really think he's depressed? Do you think it's about Mycroft?"

"It does seem logical to me. Mycroft tends to have that effect on people."

Sherlock couldn't help grinning but John shook his head. "Don't say things like that Sherlock. I think they genuinely care for one another…"

The Ravenclaw nodded. Mycroft had risked what a politician-to-be needed most, only to be with Lestrade: his reputation. And only Sherlock could fully understand what that sacrifice meant to his brother.

"I know." He finally whispered.

"Apparently," John said after a few minutes of silence. "Mycroft almost blackmailed Dumbledore into throwing the Ball. He nearly pushed Greg out of the closet."

"He would." Sherlock sighed.

John looked up at his friend and stood very still, keeping their eyes locked. "Maybe he wasn't ready to tell the world."

"So you think Mycroft should have waited a little longer…"

"I don't know…"

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><p>Gregory looked up from his plate the next morning, his eyes searching for a certain seventh year at the Slytherin table. Mycroft locked eyes with him almost immediately and nodded furtively. They both rose up from their respective seats and headed for the doors.<p>

Mycroft offered him his hand and Greg gently took it, a small smile gracing his lips. "Sherlock was wearing John's scarf yesterday."

"Obviously, he had to since John stole his first." Mycroft raised a mocking eyebrow. "I know what you're thinking. Not yet."

"I suppose we'll have to wait until the day John shows up with a Ravenclaw tie around his neck to be certain."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll know way before then. Sherlock might be able to keep up a façade but John certainly isn't. I suspect he'll look like a kid on Boxing Day."

Gregory couldn't help a light chuckle from escaping his lips. "Do you think they'll hide it too?"

Mycroft glanced at him but didn't find any trace of resentment in his lover's features. Odd. "I suppose they'll act much the same way we did. John will want to keep it quiet and Sherlock will end up forcing him out."

Lestrade stopped dead in his tracks and stared up at the Slytherin boy. "You didn't force me out, Mycroft."

"Didn't I?" His eyebrow shot up sarcastically but Gregory could tell how seriously he was taking this conversation.

"No." The Hufflepuff rubbed his thumb across the back of Mycroft's hand and resumed their previous pace. "After all, you could have blackmailed me. Or threatened me. You could have put up those photos on every wall of the castle as posters."

Mycroft chuckled. "They were quite beautiful, but I wouldn't want to share them with anyone."

"And you can't imagine how thankful I am for that touching gesture." Greg answered shaking his head.

"I'm sure you can find a way to repay me."

"We'll see about that."

Mycroft felt Greg tense up and soon understand why. A group of fifth year was walking towards them, most likely to go to breakfast, possibly because they had been waiting for them. He'd soon find out.

A Slytherin boy looked down as he passed them but Mycroft could clearly see his lips moving. These kids had no style whatsoever. "Queers."

The quiet whisper triggered a few chuckles from the group and Mycroft let out a sigh. No elegance. No guts. No originality. So it wasn't planned. These kids didn't even try, it was so tiresome.

"Mr. Anderson. Twenty points from Slytherin." He grinned but didn't even turn back to look at them. "Next time you try to seduce your friend's girlfriend, make sure she isn't wearing this horrid perfume of hers."

They could hear shouting voices dying down in the background as they took the stairs. "How did you know about the girlfriend thing?"

Mycroft was smiling broadly by now. "I didn't."

He turned to the Hufflepuff, expecting a smile but Gregory was looking away. He tightened his grip on the boy's hand and let out a sigh.

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><p>He had to do something. He simply couldn't let things go on like this, something was bothering Greg and no matter how much he hated to admit it, he needed outside help. Mycroft swallowed hard and steeled himself as he walked down Hogwarts' grounds.<p>

He had never thought he would need help in that department, but it now seemed like he didn't have much of a choice. He was getting restless himself. Something had to be done.

He walked past the familiar bush and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who we'd been looking for. John had his head propped up on Sherlock's shoulder and looked very comfortable indeed. He raised a cynical eyebrow and cleared his throat, drawing the boy's attention.

"I'm sorry to interrupt such a sweet domestic scene."

John jerked away as if burnt and Sherlock sent him his best glare. "Sod off, Mycroft."

The Slytherin grinned and shook his head. "Always so aggressive, Sherlock."

"What do you want now?" Sherlock's voice was so cold it could have frozen a roaring fire. John rolled his eyes at his friend's tone, however Mycroft looked undisturbed.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm," Sherlock groaned but Mycroft didn't pay him any attention. "however, I simply require a word with John."

Sherlock looked instantly suspicious and John's head snapped up. "No." The Ravenclaw simply stated.

"Now, now Sherlock. I understand how _close_ you two are to each other, but surely, John can answer for himself."

John could almost hear Sherlock's thoughts on the matter and decided to silence them. He placed his hand on the Ravenclaw's arm, effectively calming him. "It's all right, Sherlock."

Mycroft looked at the two of them with growing interest. They didn't need to speak, their expressions were clearer than any words could have been. As Mycroft imagined it, the dialogue went something like this:

"_Don't be so stupid John, it's Mycroft!"_

"_I know, Sherlock. And I can take care of myself."_

"_Don't take anything he says for granted; he's probably lying through his teeth."_

Mycroft could almost hear the quiet sigh John let out_. "I know. I've met him before."_

The Slytherin cleared his throat and raised a mocking eyebrow, earning two glares at once this time. John turned back to Sherlock and whispered: "I'll be right back."

Sherlock simply nodded in return and sent Mycroft one last glare for good measure. John sighed and got up, following Mycroft towards the lake. "This will only take a minute."

The Gryffindor nodded and stopped five good feet away from Mycroft. "I'm listening."

For the first time in his life John actually remarked that Mycroft was a little embarrassed. He wasn't scratching his head or balancing his weight from one foot to another. To anyone else, he might have seemed like his usual self, but there was something in his smile that didn't seem quite as natural as it usually was.

"First, I must demand the utmost discretion from you, John." Mycroft raised a hand and answered the unspoken question. "No, you can't mention it to Sherlock."

"This will depend on what you have to say." John's experience had taught him never to promise anything to Mycroft until he had read the full contract.

"This is a matter of great importance to me." Mycroft let out a sigh before meeting John's eyes, his gaze suddenly very intense. "Now listen carefully, because you shall never hear those words again."

John frowned a little but found he couldn't quite move or speak. There was something in Mycroft's expression that told him he took this very seriously. "I need your help."

The Gryffindor simply stood there, his mouth half open, for what seemed like an hour. "You… _You_ need my… What? Why?"

Mycroft shook his head in exasperation. "I need you to talk to Gregory. Something is bothering him and I want to know what it is. I _need_ to know what it is, John."

John blinked furiously. "Have you considered asking him?"

Mycroft sent him a don't-be-so-thick look that could have put Sherlock to shame and John berated himself. Of course, he had tried. "He won't talk to me. Not about this."

John couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn Mycroft's voice had sounded a little smaller than before. "All right. I'll talk to him."

This time the relief was apparent on the Slytherin's face and that fact alone disturbed John to no end. "But. I won't tell you anything if Gregory asks me not to."

Mycroft stood very still for a few seconds, his expression perfectly blank. "I understand."

John nodded and the Slytherin started walking away towards the castle. After a few strides, he stopped and turned back. "Thank you John."

"You're welcome." John took a few deep breath, letting the encounter sink in, before walking back to the bench. Sherlock's eyes snapped up as soon as he saw John and the Ravenclaw frowned.

"What did he want?"

"You know he made me promise not to tell you." John chuckled.

"So?" Sherlock almost groaned.

"So I can't tell you." The Gryffindor sighed. "It had nothing to do with you, but…"

"What is it?"

"You know when I told you I thought your brother genuinely cared for Gregory?" Sherlock nodded and John shook his head in disbelief. "I think I was right."

Sherlock frowned for a moment before sitting up, putting his elbows on his knees and his hands under his chin. John let out a deep sigh. Of course Sherlock would try to deduce what Mycroft had told him. Unfortunately for the Ravenclaw, John couldn't let him do that. He felt uncomfortable breaking Mycroft's trust on this issue.

The Gryffindor kicked Sherlock and grabbed his own lunch. "Don't do that. I promised."

"Well, I didn't. And I am at liberty to occupy my own mind as I see fit."

"Not until you've eaten some lunch." John knew his attempt was futile, but it was still worth a shot.

"I don't need it. Besides, I can't eat while I'm thinking, you know that."

"Well, stop thinking then." John grabbed his lunch and almost smashed it on Sherlock's lap. The Ravenclaw simply put it back in his friend's hand, not even looking up.

"Please, Sherlock." John knew he sounded a bit desperate by now. In fact, he was. He looked up at his friend and saw that Sherlock wasn't even paying attention to him. For some reason, this irritated him more than Sherlock trying to discover what Mycroft had told him.

Against what his better judgment would have said if he was still in a position to listen to it, John let go of his lunch bag and roughly settled himself on Sherlock's lap, grasping both of his friend's hands and pulling them apart.

"Sherlock! Listen to me! You haven't eaten in two days!"

"So what?" Sherlock tried to fight John's grip but soon found that the Gryffindor was much stronger than he was.

"You need to eat something. And you need to let this go." John sat up a bit straighter to tower over Sherlock, trying to make his point.

Sherlock tried to get him off, kicking his legs and giving him his best glare but John didn't let go. He moved a bit closer to the Ravenclaw and pinned his hands against the bench. "Oh no, you don't."

Sherlock stopped moving and John realized just how close they were to each other. Their faces were only inches apart from each other, their breath mingling together. John was now staring at his friend, not daring to look down at their hips almost joined together.

He saw Sherlock's eyes flash with something he had never seen before and he forgot to breathe for a few seconds. His eyes dropped to Sherlock's lips and he swallowed hard. They were so full and just a little bit moist.

John looked back into Sherlock's eyes and felt his heart flutter. His usual stern expression was gone, he looked so unguarded… John licked his lips in an unconscious gesture and looked back down at Sherlock's mouth. It was so close to his own, if he could just move a few inches further… He could feel his heart beating in his temple and held his breath. How he wanted to know what Sherlock's lips would taste like, how they would feel against his own. If he could just…

"Oh." Hermione's voice pulled them both out of their trance. John quickly moved back and up on his feet, struggling to keep his balance. He knew Sherlock was avoiding his gaze and that was just as good, he looked away too, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

John couldn't tell if Hermione was gleeful or annoyed. And to be honest, he didn't really care. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, not daring to look up. "That's okay. I… I need to speak to Greg anyway."

He walked away, willing his legs not to shake. "See you." He could tell his face was flushed but didn't look up to see Hermione's reaction.

As soon as the Gryffindor girl felt sure that John could no longer hear them she sat next to Sherlock. "I'm so sorry, I never imagined you two would… well… God I'm sorry."

Sherlock let out a hollow laugh. "It doesn't matter. What did you want to tell me?"

Hermione frowned for a minute. "I can't remember." She shook her head, a grin plastered all over her face. "Who cares? I can't believe you two were about to kiss! So what happened?"

"What do you mean? Nothing happened."

Hermione gaped at him. "You've got to be kidding, Sherlock. I saw you. Spill it!"

"There's nothing to say." Sherlock shrugged. "He's not interested in me that way."

"If he's not interested in you, what the hell was that about?"

"He's a teenage boy! I'm sure he would hump a tree if he had to!"

Hermione let out a sigh but Sherlock could tell she was furious about something. But what would she be angry about? It wasn't like… Ow! The Gryffindor had just punched him in the arm. Hard.

"What was that for?"

"For someone so smart you can be really thick sometimes, you know." Sherlock glared at her but Hermione didn't even flinch. "Oh, never mind. You'll find out soon enough. It shouldn't be long now…"

Sherlock shot her a questioning look but she ignored it. Hermione looked positively beaming by now, however, a question kept nagging at the back of his brain: What did she mean?

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><p><strong>There you go for today :) Please, take the time to leave me a review, I'd really appreciate it, whatever you have to say :)<strong>

**One more chapter to go, I'll upload tomorrow, and then it's over ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here we are, the last chapter, I hope you enjoyed the story cause I had a fun time writing it :) Thanks again to everyone who took the time to read this, and I'm very grateful to all those who left me a review :) I love you guys!**

**Just so you know, I'm not satisfied with the Hermione scene but I couldn't find a way to make it better, so... here you go.**

**Enjoy ;)**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.<strong>

**A/N: I'm not english speaking, but I hope this won't prevent you from enjoying the story.**

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><p>John quickened his pace, trying to erase the feel of Sherlock against him, his hands pinned against the bench, his legs just under his own, their mouths just a few inches away from touching…<p>

He let out a deep sigh. This was a lost cause. He would never be able to forget the look in Sherlock's eyes, the slight catch in his breath, the tattoo of his heart beat so near his own. Feeling his cheeks flush at the memory he shook his head and headed towards the Hufflepuff common room.

However, Gregory was nowhere to be found. John tried to think of a few places where the Hufflepuff could be and soon gave up. There was a very simple solution. He turned on his heels and headed for his own common room, running his way up the stairs to their dorms.

After checking that he was alone, he kneeled next to Harry's bed and opened his suitcase, soon finding what he was looking for. He grabbed the old piece of paper and took out his wand before whispering: _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._

The statement in itself wasn't entirely true but John figured that honesty didn't really matter at this point. He found Gregory on the map, alone in a deserted classroom on the fifth floor. What was he doing there?

John suddenly heard footsteps coming upstairs and pushed the question to the back of his mind, hissing '_Mischief managed_' before throwing the map back in Harry's suitcase. He got up to his feet and headed for the door, ignoring Ron as he passed him by.

He finally allowed himself to breathe once he was back in the corridor, Harry would never forgive if he knew that John frequently went through his stuff to use his precious map. The Gryffindor had never trusted John enough to tell him about the artifact, but luckily for John, Sherlock had figured it out on his own and he had himself overheard the other boy using the map.

Letting out a deep breath, John walked down the corridor and took the stairs two at a time, wanting to make sure that Gregory couldn't move before he got to the fifth floor. The corridor was empty when he arrived and he soon spotted the right door. John leaned against the door but the room was completely silent.

He sighed and firmly knocked. "Yeah, come in." John frowned at the lack of enthusiasm in his friend's voice but opened the door and slipped inside.

Gregory was seated on a desk, cross-legged and apparently deep in thought. He turned towards John and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "John? What are you doing here?"

The Gryffindor grabbed a chair and sat in front of Greg. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"Not really." Gregory lied. "So, did Mycroft send you?"

John wiggled in his seat and crossed his legs. "Not really no…"

"I'm not that dumb John." The Hufflepuff chuckled. "What did he order you to do?"

"Actually," John frowned at the realization. "he didn't exactly order me." He sat a bit straighter in his chair and cleared his throat. "Look, I'm only here because I think that something is bothering you… and I want to help."

"I appreciate it John, but you can't. It'll pass, I'm just being silly."

"No you're not." John replied seriously. "Is it about the Ball?"

Gregory let out a sigh. "I know you all think he forced me out, but he didn't. I wanted… I needed to do this as much as he did… It's just…"

"What is it Greg?"

The Hufflepuff looked up and John swallowed hard when he saw something akin to sadness in his eyes. "I can deal with idiots… I don't mind them _because _Mycroft is here. But next year he… well, I'll be…"

John saw him swallow the lump in his throat and circled his arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry Greg…"

"We've been together for so long I can't…" The Hufflepuff took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. "Could you imagine Hogwarts without Sherlock?"

John looked away for a minute. Even if their situations were different – for obvious reasons – John cared for Sherlock as much as Gregory did for Mycroft. He tried to think about what the Hufflepuff had just said and felt his heart drop. No, he couldn't, he didn't want to imagine. And he didn't even want to know how it felt for Greg who knew it would all come true in a few short months…

"You know I'll have to tell Mycroft about this right?"

Gregory chuckled a bit, his face relaxing a little. "No you won't." John frowned and this time the Hufflepuff couldn't stifle his laughter. "Mycroft's probably bugged you or something. By the way love, if you're listening to any of this, wait until tomorrow to talk to me. And stay out of the Hufflepuff dorms tonight too."

John shuddered at the pictures suddenly assaulting his brain. Oh sweet Merlin, he had enough nightmare material to last a lifetime. Greg got up from the desk and gave him a warm smile, the first John had seen on his face for more than a week. "Thank you."

As soon as the door was shut and John was alone again, a voice came out of what he assumed was his tie. "Nice work John." The Gryffindor jumped up in surprise and nearly lost his balance.

"You bastard!"

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><p>The next day, Mycroft found Gregory in the same classroom, alone again. He gently closed the door and tried a small smile. "I'm sorry I spied on you and John. I needed to know."<p>

Greg let out a sigh and sat on the teacher's desk, purposefully looking away. "I knew you would and I talked anyway. You don't have to apologize."

Mycroft closed his eyes for a second and moved a bit closer, observing Greg's reaction. When he understood that the Hufflepuff wasn't going to run away from him, he sighed and went to stand in front of him, placing his hands on Greg's knees.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The weakness of his voice forced Gregory to look at him and what he saw then was enough to take his breath away. Mycroft looked so small, so uncertain it broke his heart.

Greg grabbed his head and leaned in until his forehead came to rest against Mycroft's. "I didn't want you to worry. I felt stupid."

"But I did worry, I thought…" His voice broke and he closed his eyes again, swallowing whatever words were supposed to end his sentence.

"You thought I was mad at you…" Gregory whispered and Mycroft could only nod. "I'm not mad, I am thankful." The Slytherin's eyes shot open and Greg pecked him on the lips. "We both needed to be honest, with ourselves, and with everyone else."

"All right." Mycroft murmured. "But I don't want you to hide things from me… I need to know… I was…" The Slytherin swallowed hard and Greg brushed his cheek with the tip of his fingers.

"No more secrets. I promise." Mycroft smiled at him and kissed him slowly, lovingly. Gregory couldn't believe the Slytherin could kiss him like this and still seem so cold to the rest of the world. His true heart was a well-kept secret, and one he was more than willing to keep for himself.

"But…" Greg swallowed the lump in his throat. "Didn't you think about it? About next year I mean?"

"No…" Mycroft confessed. "I always thought I would find ways to visit you… Everything has always been so obvious between us, I never realized it could be an issue… It never felt like I was… leaving you… You were always going to be there…"

Gregory closed his eyes a small smile playing across his lips and Mycroft knew he understood. This was as close to an 'I love you' as he would ever get. When the Hufflepuff opened his eyes again, he was grinning.

"So, what did you do to Professor Dumbledore to get what you wanted this time?"

"Oh, nothing much." Mycroft chuckled. "He seemed quite enthusiastic actually, I rather think he was enjoying himself."

Greg rolled his eyes, drawing a smile from the Slytherin. "You will have your own rooms here and the ability to call House elves at will."

"Wh-" Mycroft cut him off by placing a finger against his lips. "I'm not done yet. Your rooms will be right next to the tunnel between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?"

"Yes. Have you ever noticed the little house right next to Honeydukes?"

"Er… no. What about it?"

Mycroft grinned. "It's mine."

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><p>Hermione swallowed back her tears as she ran from the dungeons. She walked up the stairs and soon found herself on the third floor where she knew Sherlock would be. His class had just come to an end and he would be on his way to the park to spend his lunch with John. She knew she should leave them alone, they were so close…<p>

But she couldn't help herself, she needed Sherlock right now. He would understand. Hermione pushed her way through the crowd of students and soon found the Ravenclaw standing in the middle of the hallway. He frowned at her for a few seconds but she ignored it.

She walked towards him and threw herself in his arms, burying her face against his chest and finally letting the tears roll freely down her cheeks. Sherlock had gone completely stiff for a moment, but she didn't mind. He awkwardly raised his arms and held her tight, letting out a sigh.

After a few minutes the corridor had fallen silent and Hermione found the courage to stop hiding her face. She looked up at Sherlock and brushed her tears away. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I didn't mean to break down on you like that…"

"It's all right."

Hermione could tell he was a little uncomfortable and she chuckled a little. "I'm just so tired of hiding… I wish it weren't so complicated that's all…"

"I know…" Sherlock whispered.

Hermione gave him a small smile and stepped back, noticing someone watching them a few feet away. "Oh…" Sherlock turned back and saw John too.

He was standing still, his whole posture incredibly stiff. His face seemed expressionless except for the fire in his eyes. Hermione noticed his hands were clenched into fists and frowned. John and Sherlock were staring at each other now and Hermione could almost hear the unspoken words between the two of them. She could have cut through the tension with a knife.

"All right, that's it." She hissed before wiping her last tears away. She grabbed Sherlock's wrist and dragged him with her as she stormed towards John. The Gryffindor's eyebrows shot up but she could still see that spark in his eyes.

She opened a classroom door at random and let go of Sherlock's wrist. "You, stay there and wait for me." Then she turned to John. "I need a word."

"What makes you think I would want to listen to you?"

"Hermione, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Both answers came at the same time and Hermione glared at them. "I'm saving you both some time. Sherlock, it'll only take a minute, and John…" She sighed and raised her hand in the air. "Please, trust me. You are going to want to hear what I've got to say."

Her tone was a bit gentler now and maybe this was what convinced John to get in the classroom. Maybe it was the feeling he had that Sherlock was desperately trying to hide something from him. Something that Hermione was about to reveal…

"Hermione, I don't know what you think you're doing, but please… don't."

She saw the pleading look in Sherlock's eyes and almost gave in. "Trust me. You'll thank me later."

Hermione got in the classroom herself and locked the door. Even through the door she could almost see Sherlock leaning in trying to spy on them. "I'm not that stupid Sherlock." She announced before placing a Silencing Charm on the room.

She turned around and watched John for a moment, his arms crossed and his frown in place. "Right, what do you want?" His tone was harsher than he had intended, but Hermione was past caring at this point.

"I want you to stop ogling him from afar. It's getting ridiculous." She threw her hands in the air as John simply gaped at her.

"I'm not. And even if I was…" He closed his eyes. "I'm not 'ogling' your boyfriend as you put it!"

"Oh please John, you're-" Hermione stopped dead, her eyes widening in surprise. "You… My… What? Sherlock's not my boyfriend!"

John rolled his eyes and Hermione simply stared at him, resisting the urge to slam her forehead against the wall. "Of course!" She finally cried out. "Of course, how did I not see this? Merlin it was so obvious!"

She shook her head, grinning from ear to ear before running towards John, crushing him in her embrace. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She released him and stepped back. "God, you're as oblivious as he is. Unbelievable." She placed her hands on John's arms and looked up at him, her expression serious again. "Sherlock isn't my boyfriend. I can't believe I didn't see you were just jealous."

"What?" John seemed lost by now. He had a puppy sort of look and Hermione restrained herself from hugging him again. "Of course he's your…"

"Of course he isn't." She gave him a warm smile. "I'm not interested in him, and believe me… he's not interested in me." She giggled to herself before looking up again. "I'm not his type."

_Not his type… Not. His. Type._ John repeated the words until they made sense, and when they finally did he could only gape at the young girl. "Oh…" He whispered.

Hermione raised a suggestive eyebrow and John's eyes widened. "Oh!"

She took his hands in hers and shook them. "I'll leave now but please… please! Don't just stand there when he comes in, you've both waited long enough."

John could simply nod as he saw Hermione get back towards the door, unlocking it. Sherlock rushed into the room, glaring at her as if she had just told his mother about his experiments. Hermione ignored it and stood on her toes, placing a kiss on Sherlock's cheek before heading out. She turned back one more time to wink at John and finally closed the door, leaving them alone.

John swallowed hard. He could feel his heart beat so hard he was afraid it would burst out of his chest. He felt very – very – aware that this moment would change the entire nature of their relationship. He could feel all the tension from these past weeks resting on his shoulders, slowing him down.

Hermione was right. Probably. Perhaps. She might be right. Oh what did she know? What if she'd been wrong? What if Sherlock rejected him? He couldn't take it, he couldn't risk what they had, he couldn't… His breath caught as Sherlock finally looked up, his eyes boring into his own and causing his heart to stop.

But how could he not? How could he possibly go through the rest of his life, knowing how they felt about each other and still not do a thing? He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, trying to remind himself that Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. John took his wand out and locked the door, taking a step towards Sherlock.

The Ravenclaw paled a little and gripped the bottom of his shirt. "Look, John…" His voice was so small it almost sounded like a whisper. "I don't know what Hermione told you…"

John got a bit closer, focusing his gaze on Sherlock's lips. Oh those lips, he had been so close just yesterday. It all felt like a lifetime ago. He glanced at Sherlock's pale, long neck and let out a sigh. If he moved just a few feet closer he could change everything…

Pictures of the two of them walking down the castle's corridors hand in hand flashed through his mind. He pictured them on their bench, him sitting on Sherlock's laps or his head nuzzled in the crook of his neck. They were snogging in an alcove, smiling at each other in class, cuddling in the Gryffindor common room, laughing in the park, shagging in the room of Requirement…

John could feel his heart in his throat by now. He took a step closer to Sherlock, swallowing hard. They were only a few inches apart. John looked up and saw all of the emotions the Ravenclaw usually hid so well. Need, desperation, hurt, loneliness, fear and… love?

"Please John…" Sherlock's pleading tone sent a shiver down his spine. "What did she say?"

John reached out a shaky hand and grabbed Sherlock's tie. The Ravenclaw simply stared at him, confusion written all over his face. "She said we were idiots…" He whispered before pulling Sherlock towards him and pressing his lips against his own.

Sherlock didn't move an inch and John soon stepped back in horror. He felt his stomach drop, his chest tighten, his eyes begin to sting a little. Why had he listened to Hermione? Oh, Sherlock would never let him live this down…

"Sherlock, I'm so…" The Ravenclaw swallowed his words as he leaned in himself, capturing John's lips in a desperate kiss. He grabbed the back of his head, trying to push him closer. John recovered from the shock quick enough to respond to the kiss, moving his lips against Sherlock and lifting his hands to run them in the messy black curls he had been dying to touch.

Sherlock moved closer, flushing John's chest against his own and joining their hips. He bit his lower lip and John gladly opened his mouth for him, accepting his tongue and greedily stroking it with his own. Every brush of Sherlock's body against his set John's nerves on fire, opening doors he had thought would stay closed forever.

John let out a whimper as Sherlock took control, pushing him until his back hit the side of a desk. The Ravenclaw slid his leg between John's thighs and moaned when he felt his hard-on beneath his trousers. John could also feel Sherlock's cock pushing against his abdomen and felt a heat wave rush up his whole body, leaving him weak at the knees.

He stood on his toes and pushed his erection against Sherlock's, swallowing the growl that escaped the Ravenclaw's throat. Sherlock let his hands run up John's legs before grabbing his ass, satisfied to hear John groan at the touch. He grabbed the back of his thighs and sat him up on the desk, settling himself between his legs and pushing himself against John.

He left John's mouth and began sucking on his neck, biting, licking and kissing the delicious skin offered to him. John leaned into his touch and rubbed their hips together in a desperate plea for more contact. His whole world was so full of Sherlock he felt on the verge of implosion.

Then he heard footsteps in the corridor and realized how late it was. He growled and ran his hands through Sherlock's hair before trying to pull him away. "Sherlock… oh… Classes are about to start…"

His voice sounded more like a whimper than anything and he knew he couldn't even have convinced himself. "I don't care." Sherlock groaned against his neck before biting it again, making John gasp.

Sherlock pulled his head back to press his forehead against John's. The Gryffindor took in the sight of his disheveled friend, his lips crimson and swollen, his eyes full of want and he leaned in to capture his lips in another breath-taking kiss.

When Sherlock gripped the front of his trousers and began unfastening the belt, John decided that he didn't really care either.

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><p>That night, Sherlock and John entered the Great Hall together. The Ravenclaw was grinning like a cat and the Gryffindor looked positively beaming himself. Mycroft and Gregory shared a knowing look and chuckled in their plates.<p>

They'd wait until after dinner to inform John that he was wearing his friend's tie.

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><p><strong>There you go, it's over :) I considered writing an epilogue but I quite like this ending :) I can just picture Mycroft and Greg grinning. <strong>

**Anyway, I hope you aren't too disappointed by the ending, but even if you are, feel free to tell me, I accept criticism ;)**

**Aaaaand, I think that's about it. Hopefully I'll be back soon with another story, but I'm still waiting for an idea to pop into my head ( perhaps Merlin/Arthur next time, who knows? )**

**See you!**


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